


Story Time with Mercy and Gary

by Illusinia



Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/Illusinia
Summary: Gary shows up for a visit after learning a few things about his half-sister. Mercy might have a bit of explaining to do.
Relationships: Adam Hauptman/Mercy Thompson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	Story Time with Mercy and Gary

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned, there are out of character characters here.

“Gary?” Mercy blinked in surprise, staring at her brother as he casually hovered outside her back door. “What are you doing here?”

The much older man grinned at her in return, stepping forward and pulling her into a hug much the same way Charles would: with one arm in a brief gesture that conveyed deep care despite its brevity. “Such a warm greeting, little sister. I came to see how you were doing. You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“Last time you saw me, I was in the hospital with a broken neck,” pointed out Mercy with a grimace, leaning back to look up at Gary. “It’s hard to look  _ worse _ than that.”

“You forgot about the burns,” stated Gary, though he pulled her back into another brief hug at the reminder. She hadn’t thought he cared that much about what happened to her, but then again: he was her brother.

Mercy snorted a little. “I try not to think about those.” 

Stepping fully back, she motioned for him to come in. Gary didn’t live close; he was working on a horse ranch in Montana last she heard and based on how he smelled of horses and the various scents she associated with Montana, she didn’t think that had changed. He was also wanted by the local police still as far as she knew, so standing on her back porch probably wasn’t a great idea. It was definitely best he came inside, particularly as she didn’t think he would be leaving in the next five minutes. He’d travelled way too far for a five minute conversation.

Gary didn’t hesitate to stroll in once she’d invited him, glancing around the kitchen curiously before taking a seat at the table and leaning back. “I bet. I keep telling you, you should run  _ away _ from trouble, not towards it.”

“That’s a bit hard when it comes after me,” reasoned Mercy as she headed into the kitchen proper. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Don’t suppose you have any coffee made?” asked Gary hopefully. “If not, water’s fine.”

They did have coffee. Both Adam and Jesse along with most of the pack drank it and someone had just made a fresh pot, which gave Mercy the chance to snag a cup for Gary before someone came back and drank it all. Setting the mug down for him, she got her own mug of hot chocolate which she had just finished making, complete with the chili powder and vanilla she added to give it that nice kick and smooth finish. For half a second, she contemplated standing at the counter a moment more before deciding the chair was more comfortable.

“So, why decide to visit now?” asked Mercy as she sipped at her chocolate. In the next room, she could hear the wolves currently hanging around the house stop their chatter.

When she’d left to make her own drink, it had been Warren, Ben, Mary Jo, Honey, Jesse, and Auriele sitting in the room. Darryl was somewhere around, probably with Adam discussing how they were going to find a pack for Darryl now that he was ready to become alpha. There’d been discussions of working with Bran to solve the problem, but Adam thought it might be prudent, Darryl willing, to start a second pack in the area. The bigger cities often had two and there was enough space here to do the same, maybe. They would need to work out the details, but it would mean that Darryl could keep his think-tank job without having to move and it would give them both a good degree of protection and support in case someone stupid (like Cantrip) decided to target either pack. Again.

She could practically hear them listening to her and Gary. Honey was nearly vibrating in the pack bonds and, if Adam hadn’t caught that they had a visitor before, he would definitely know now. She thought about sending him a quick reassurance, but she didn’t think it was necessary. She was calm and that would tell Adam everything was alright.

“I was thinking about you recently,” replied Gary, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Shit, that’s good.” He relaxed more, leaning back into his chair. “More specifically, I ran into some people who apparently know you and they told me some  _ interesting stories _ . I wanted to know if they were true.”

Mercy froze. Someone had told Gary stories about her? Well, fuck. “Were they werewolves?”

“Two of them were,” confirmed Gary, leaning forward a little. “Native American man named Charles. Really tall, really scary, has a wife named Anna that’s his polar opposite? Sound familiar? His wife referred to you as his ‘little sister’, if that helps.”

Double fuck, why did it have to be Charles? Charles  _ knew things. _ Not that he was inclined to talk to, well, anyone who wasn't Anna really, but it worried her that Charles was the one that Gary had run into. She would have preferred Tag- at least Tag didn’t know anything really embarrassing about her. Charles knew  _ all _ of the stories, even the ones Bran didn’t. “Yep. How did you end up talking to Charles?”

“He was down looking at horses with his wife from Aspen Creek,” explained Gary with a smirk. “I overheard Anna talking about adding ‘Mercy and Adam to the family group text’ and smelled werewolf. I didn’t think there were a lot of Mercy and Adam’s around. One or the other, sure. But probably not together and probably not involved with werewolves.”

Yep, if there was any doubt before, it was definitely Charles Cornick. Anna had invited both her and Adam to the “Cornick Family Group Text” just a few days ago, though she’d excluded Leah from the group. Apparently it was a well accepted fact that Leah should not be in a chat room with Bran’s sons or her. “No, that was us. Anna added us to the group a few days ago."

So far, it was mostly Samuel sending photos of kittens and his wife Arianna with Anna responding with puppies and Charles. Charles had sent a photo of a tree that had confused everyone until both Sam and Anna explained what they were doing, at which point he’d started sending photos of horses and Anna. Which had led to Adam doing the same except with photos of her and coyotes. Briefly, all of the women had been pretty much pushed out of the conversation while the boys competed to do… something. Mercy still wasn’t sure what the point had been. Bran had finally ended it by sending a photo of Sam and Charles sitting with her stretched across their legs in coyote form when she’d been who knew how young, all passed out on his couch. And then one of Sam, Charles, and Adam sleeping in a big wolf pile from who knew how long ago. Probably a while back, given Adam had been with their pack. That had abruptly ended whatever competition had been occuring and let the group more or less get back to normal.

“Sounds like it would be entertaining,” smirked Gary before he took another sip of his coffee. “Like a real family. You know, the kind of people who always take you back, even when you steal and crash their Porsche into a tree when you don’t have a driver's license.”

Yep, someone had been talking. Though, she’d guess it was probably Anna and not Charles. Someone, she wanted to assume Bran but equally possibly Charles, had been telling Anna stories. Charles had never seemed the type to  _ tell _ stories, but Anna seemed to have that impact on him. “I hope Anna told you that I’d been dared into taking it.”

Gary looked a little confused for a second. “Anna didn’t tell me that one, Bran did. You know, short, blond human? Blends into the background creepily well? He said he knew you.”

Mercy might have choked on her hot chocolate. Bran had fooled her brother into thinking he was human? The howls of laughter that rose from the living room told her that the rest of the pack in attendance were definitely listening. And had heard that part too.

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Gary glanced towards the doorway where the others were sitting. “I’m missing something. Also, no private conversations?”

“Not with the pack around,” confirmed Mercy as she managed to dislodge the chocolate from her windpipe. “You should have heard them when Jesse’s friend Izzy’s mother caught me in some pyramid scheme run by Baba Yaga.”

The grin that spread over Gary’s face said he could imagine that conversation. “Did you mess with her?”

“She asked me if Adam had issues in bed,” replied Mercy bluntly. “Yes, I messed with her.”

Gary howled in amusement at the suggestion and Mercy found herself relaxing. It was kind of nice to hear another coyote howl. “Oh, to have been a fly on  _ that _ wall.”

“And Adam heard every word of it,” added Mercy, her own smirk appearing, “so I kind of had to.” It was actually Darryl’s fault, but she wasn’t going to tell her brother that. "It would have been funnier if it hadn't ended up in the tabloids."

That coaxed further laughter from her brother, who leaned back in his chair almost dangerously, though he didn’t fall. “Remind me never to egg you on.” Setting the chair back to rights, he got his laughter under control and leaned forward a little. “So, I’m going to guess I didn’t read Bran right.”

“No, you didn’t,” agreed Mercy, settling further into her chair. “Bran is the alpha of all alpha werewolves who can somehow pass himself off as completely unimportant. Some of the other supernatural creatures call him the werewolf king, which I never believed until my impromptu trip to Europe gave me a first-hand exposure to just how afraid everyone is of him.”

“Except you, because you stole his car when you were 14 and crashed it,” stated Gary with a grin. “And tricked him into sitting in peanut butter because he upset your foster mother. He also said he thought you might have stolen his wife’s shoes, but he couldn’t prove it or figure out how you made them disappear.”

“Charles’ truck, a large fishing hook, and a glacial lake,” replied Mercy without thinking, shaking her head. “I don’t know why everyone keeps bringing up the peanut butter thing.”

“Because it’s hilarious?" suggested Gary, his fingers tapping the table. “Though, Bran says what you did to his library might still be the worst thing you ever did.”

“Really?” asked Mercy in surprise, both eyebrows rising. “The library? I did that when I was eight. It’s hardly the worst thing I ever did to him.”

“The library?” asked Honey as she appeared in the doorway, apparently unable to keep herself away any longer. Honestly, with the level of excitement Mercy could feel from her, she was surprised the woman hadn’t appeared before now. “What did you do to Bran’s library? When you were just a kid, no less.”

“Bran gave me some high-handed order I didn’t like,” replied Mercy with a shrug as she leaned back in her chair. “So I rearranged his library for him.”

“It doesn’t sound bad when you put it that way,” snorted Gary before he turned to look up at Honey, eyes softening as he stared at her. “She pulled almost all the books off his shelves, flipped about half of them upside down, and then put them back in- spine first.”

“Spine first…” repeated Honey before her eyes got wide. “You shelved all of the books in his library backwards!”

“And randomly flipped some of them upside down, so he couldn’t just pick up a handful and flip them around,” confirmed Mercy with a nod. “I also put them back randomly, so he had to reorganize his entire library on top of flipping all the books back around. It wasn’t that bad, though. I did worse, like the time I frosted unsweetened baking-chocolate brownies with baking soda and vinegar, with some vanilla mixed in to hide the smell.”

The horrified look that crossed both Gary's and Honey's faces was nearly priceless. Bran had deserved it though. She'd done that when he'd decided to ground her for something stupid. She couldn't remember what, but she did remember thinking the grounding was over the top.

"You really poked the beast, didn't you?" asked Gary in awe. "Geez, no wonder you don't run the other way. How did you manage to survive?"

"I'm not really afraid of Bran," replied Mercy with a shrug. "He never gave me a reason to be. I respect him most of the time, but I've only been afraid of him once, when I crashed the car. And according to Samuel, he was more scared than mad." Which actually explained why he made her stay in his guest room for a week after. 

"How are you not afraid of the Marrok?" asked Mary Jo as she came into the kitchen behind Honey, heading for the fridge. “Everyone is afraid of the Marrok.”

Mercy shrugged, tapping her cup a bit. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to be afraid of someone who repeatedly reminds you that you attacked his ankles as a pup while laughing about it.”

One of Gary’s eyebrows rose, his eyes drifting back to Mercy from Honey. “Attacked his ankles?”

Sighing, Mercy leaned back in her chair and nodded. “Mom- my mom freaked out when I was a baby. She came into my room expecting to see her 3 month old and found a coyote pup instead. Joe- my dad- was dead almost a year by then and when mom went looking for his family, she couldn’t find any.”

“Obviously,” agreed Gary with a snort. “She wouldn’t have wanted to, either.”

“Gordon wouldn’t have been so bad,” argued Mercy with a shrug. “He would have at least helped her understand what was happening. But, she couldn’t find anyone back then who could help. None of the local tribes were inclined to help, either. Probably because they didn’t believe her.”

Gary snorted in a way that said he’d experienced similar issues. “Your mother clearly wasn’t Native American and by extension couldn’t be one of our kind, so how could you possibly be a walker.”

“Maybe, or maybe they really didn’t know.” Mercy shrugged. The thought that the people her mother had turned to for help might have lied hurt, but she couldn’t really say she blamed them, either. “But mom had a great Uncle that was a werewolf. So she asked him and he suggested she bring me to Bran. Apparently, during the first conversation she had with him, I turned into a coyote and went after Bran’s ankles.”

“He claims you almost ruined his shoes, too,” added Adam as he strode into the room, moving between the rest of the pack members from the living room who’d all crowded into the doorway. “Which is why he picked you up and held you for the rest of the meeting- to make sure you didn’t.”

“He did not,” stated Mercy firmly, glaring at Adam. “He put me on the couch where I was well out of reach of his shoes and ankles.”

Adam grinned and dropped a kiss to her forehead. “That's not how he tells it. He was disturbed. He said it was the first time his wolf wanted to come out and  _ play _ rather than kill.”

“How did you even hear about that? Please tell me that story isn’t circulating, too. The wolves in Europe knew way too much about some of the things I did in Aspen Creek.” She did not need to know things she’d done when she was an  _ infant _ were widely known, too. “I’ve begun to regret the peanut butter seat as an adult just because people keep  _ mentioning _ it.”

“They keep mentioning it because most people are too scared of Bran to put peanut butter on his car seat and trick him into sitting it in. Or steal Leah’s shoes. Or make chocolate easter bunnies with cayenne pepper inside.”

“Spicy chocolate is the best kind of chocolate,” grumbled Mercy even as Adam leaned down to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

Chuckling, Adam kissed her temple. “Bran loves you, Mercy. He said so himself. You’re part of his family, so of course people talk about the crap you put him through. They talk about Samuel, too. Even Charles, though that’s usually in much quieter voices.”

“Charles scares everyone, of course they use quieter voices,” mumbled Mercy as she turned her head into his shoulder and just breathed in his scent. “And most of what I hear about Charles has to do with his rescuing Anna. And them wondering how she puts up with him.”

“They should see what goes on in that Cornick family group chat,” murmured Adam with a low rumble of amusement. “No one would be afraid of them ever again.”

“Or they’d be doubly afraid, because they’d find out that the whole family is just nuts and they still manage to hold everything together,” countered Mercy, a grin pulling across her face. “Don’t let them fool you. Sam used to turn into a wolf and come play in the school yard with us.”

“Samuel’s wolf used to  _ play _ in the school yard with children?” asked Honey in horror. “Why would the Marrok let him do that?”

Mercy shrugged. “Sam’s wolf isn’t… his wolf is pretty tame.” That was an understatement. His wolf had spent close to a week in control because he wanted to live when Sam didn’t. Somehow, it worked out okay. “Plus, Sam and maybe his wolf love kids.”

“Even coyote pups like you,” stated Gary with a grin. “You know, it makes more sense why Bran had so many photographs of you, Charles, and Samuel on his phone.”

Well, that was a shock. Bran had photographs on his phone? When had someone taught him how to do that? Though it did explain how he’d managed to post those two to the group chat. But… “Wait, how do you know he has photographs on his phone?”

“Because he was showing them off with absolute glee once he found out I was your brother,” stated Gary, his eyes dancing with mischief. “There were a few of this little coyote pup trying to wrestle with a big red wolf. My favorite was still when she somehow got on his back and was gnawing on his ear.”

Adam started laughing against Mercy’s shoulder and she buried her face in her hands. “I’ve seen that one. Bran has it in a family photo album. Charles looks torn between dumping Mercy off his back and staying there. Did he show you the one of Charles, Mercy, and Samuel sleeping in a pile when Mercy was about 3? She’s human and the other two are wolves. It’s precious.”

“First, since when does this album exist?” demanded Mercy as she turned irritated eyes up at her husband. “And second, why have you seen it?”

“Bran pulled it out when he called me to Montana to discuss moving the pack here,” stated Adam with a smirk. “And again when I asked him to allow me to lay claim to you as my mate.”

Mercy sputtered in absolute horror. “You asked  _ Bran _ if you could claim me as your mate?!”

“He was the next closest thing to a father you have,” pointed out Adam mildly. “It seemed more appropriate to ask the man who had basically raised you than a step father you barely knew.”

Of course, because Adam was from the 50s when men still asked a woman’s father before proposing to her. And Bran was the closest thing to a father she had after Bryan died. But still… “That doesn’t explain why he pulled out a  _ photo album _ with pictures of me in it. I don’t even remember him  _ taking  _ photos of me when I was a child.”

“I’m not sure he took all of them,” admitted Adam with a grin. “But someone did. There’s a really cute one that someone took on the sly of you sleeping on Bran when you’re still tiny. It looked like Bran had fallen asleep in the sun and you escaped to climb on him.”

“Well, shit,” muttered Mercy with a sigh. “And here I thought there was no risk of the embarrassing baby photos thing happening. Not like mom has any.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a baby album of you somewhere,” remarked Gary, though his eyes were back on Honey. “He seems like the type to make copies and distribute them.”

Adam snorted. “Believe me, he’s not. I jokingly asked for a few to use when Mercy was being stubborn. Bran didn’t find it amusing. He never actually said the words ‘she’s mine and only I am allowed to embarrass her’, but it was pretty clear in his eyes.” Kissing her cheek, Adam whispered: “Remember, he loves you like his daughter. Photo albums are part of having a family, and to him you are family. He was showing me that when he showed me those albums, to prove that you are his and he was trusting me with you.”

"Great," muttered Mercy with a scowl. "No wonder the European wolves knew so much about me."

"Some of those came from Bran," confirmed Adam with a nod. "The car one probably did. The rest of the wolves in Aspen Creek spent months trailing you after that crash to make sure you didn't get hurt again. There was concern that Bran might lose control if something happened to you."

"I spent the summer with Charles learning to drive and fix cars," pointed out Mercy. "The most dangerous thing he did was send me on that vision quest where I met Coyote."

"Why was Charles teaching you to drive and fix cars?" asked Warren curiously. "Didn't think he even knew how to drive. Ride horses, sure. He's got a way with horses. But cars?" Silence filled the room as the whole pack turned to look at Warren. He stared right back at them. "What?"

"Warren, how do you know so much about Charles?" asked Darryl slowly as he made his way into the room from behind everyone else. He eyed the third wearily, like he thought the man might bite. Which, given Warren was actually more dominant that Darryl, might be the case.

Warren shrugged, offering them a lazy grin. "I'm an old cowboy and got pulled into the rodeo and horse trade circuits for a bit in the 40s and 50s. We crossed paths after I watched his friend decide to try ridin' a bull moose."

Again, a long silence followed, this time broken by Mercy. "Charles had a friend? Wait, that sounds bad, Charles had a friend stupid enough to try riding a bull moose?"

"Yep," confirmed Warren with a pop of his lips. "Didn't even realize Charles was a werewolf until I was standin' next to him. Thought he was gonna kill me for sure. Ended up havin' a friendly chat with me instead though. Didn't care what I was into."

"A lot of Indian tribes had three or four genders," explained Gary with a shrug. "Personally, I don't get why anyone has an issue with it."

"Says my brother who hit on both Zack and then Kyle in rapid succession," remarked Mercy blandly, raising an eyebrow at him.

Gary shrugged in return. "I'm old, little sister. You learn to be flexible with time."

"Old?" repeated Honey in surprise, along with a few others who made similar noises of disbelief.

Gary nodded in return. "I saw the Victorian age and was in the Great War, as they like to call it. Not that it was great being there."

"That would make you over a 100 years old…" murmured Honey in clear surprise. "You're only a little older than I am."

The soft look Gary gave her was impossible to miss. There was a sad edge too, though. "Probably more than a little. I was born in the 1850s."

“1850s,” repeated Darryl, his eyes moving to Mercy. “Are walkers immortal?”

“I wouldn’t say that at all,” stated Gary quickly, his hands waving away the idea frantically. “We just don’t age past a certain point for whatever reason and it only works for those of us who have a spirit for one parent. And we can certainly get ourselves  _ killed _ .” He looked pointedly at Mercy as he said that, his eyes narrowing a little into a glare. 

“So what you’re saying is, if Mercy stops jumping into trouble all the time, she might actually live as long as any of us can?” asked Ben curiously, glancing at her for a moment before he laughed. “Right, good luck with that, Mate. Trouble is Mercy’s middle name.”

Adam snorted. “If Bran ever finds out about that, Mercy’ll be in trouble.”

Gary winced. “If he didn't know before, he definitely knows now. So I suppose she's already in trouble.”

“He does?” asked Mercy, giving her brother a slow once over. “And how would that be?”

“My age came up and I told them it was an aspect of being a walker like us,” admitted Gary with a shrug. “It’s probably better they know, so when you still look like this when you're 80, they won’t be surprised.”

Against her head, Adam let out a soft snorting laugh. “So, does this mean Bran’s going to have me wrap you in bubble wrap?”

“Don’t even joke about that, he seriously might have you do it if he doesn’t come do it himself,” muttered Mercy irritably. This might not be a big deal, but it also might screw a lot of things up. A lot of things. Bran was already protective, but she knew he’d lost a lot of humans over time- which was why he gave them less substance. They were doomed to die before him. But apparently, she might have a slightly longer life span, assuming she didn’t get herself killed. Which might make Bran more insufferable. “What is our lifespan?”

Gary shrugged. “I’m not really sure, but it seems to be based on when we get killed. There- we were already pretty rare when I was born. Only a handful of the spirits were really still active, our father and Raven being among them. Most of the walkers I’ve met were pretty much descendents of descendents, who don’t have the whole long-life thing going for them. The ones I knew who were like us, well, they didn’t die of old age. If it wasn’t disease, it was violence. Between the Europeans and the vampires, most of our kind didn’t have a chance.”

“So you might be immortal,” remarked Honey carefully, her eyes lighting up a little. "You and Mercy both."

"We might not die of old age," corrected Gary again, a playful grin pulling at his face. "What are you thinking, sweet Honey?"

"I'm thinking I might punch you if you keep using lines like that," remarked Honey, though there was no venom in her tone. Instead, she reached out to knock his chair, which overbalanced him. She apparently wasn't expecting him to grab her arm when he went over though, which resulted in him on the ground with Honey sprawled on top of him.

Mercy nearly burst into laughter, particularly when she caught her brother's expression. He was blushing faintly, though he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself as well. Honey looked less amused, though Gary was careful to keep his hands up and away. 

"You know, if you want to be on top, you can just ask," remarked Gary, though his tone was more amused than lecherous. 

Honey shot him a glare and straightened up, shifting off him before she stood. "You couldn't handle me on top and you wouldn't get me any other way."

"Coyotes are very adaptable," remarked Gary from the ground. His smile was softer though, as were his eyes. Mercy knew her brother could get distracted by a pretty face, but somehow she didn't think he usually looked at women the way he looked at Honey.

Then it struck her: Gary was old. Over a century and a half. Which meant, he'd watched others die around him, just like many of the wolves she'd known growing up had. Who knew how many wives or children he'd lost to time while he didn't age. And how nice he probably thought it would be to not have to worry about it with a werewolf. The thought made her extremely glad for Adam's long lifespan in a way she hadn't been before. If she could keep from getting killed, if she lived like her brother, she might actually live to be a century or two.

She might not have to leave Adam alone. It was a big 'if' with their father, but Gary had managed to survive at least. Maybe she could, too. If the people around her stopped getting into trouble anyway.

"Adaptability won't save you where I'm concerned," countered Honey with a scowl in his direction. "Besides, you prefer to play it safe."

Gary picked himself up off the floor easily, brushing imaginary dust off his clothes. "Only when the reward does not exceed the risk. And you, dear Honey, are worth significantly more than the risk."

Honey actually seemed speechless, which Mercy took as her opportunity to break in. "Leave her alone, Gary. She'll kill you, remember?"

“Yes, but I would die a happy man,” stated Gary with an absolute surety that told her that he probably wasn’t joking regardless of his grin or the way he laughed as he said it. From the way Honey was scowling even as her cheeks pinkened, she picked up on it, too. 

Right, subject change time. "How long are you planning to stay, Gary?"

"Trying to get rid of me already, sister?" asked Gary, his teasing turning to her and away from Honey. The wolf looked uncomfortable and thoughtful.

Mercy snorted slightly. "No, I'm just wondering. It's actually nice to have you around when you aren't trying for 'death by angry female werewolf'." What she didn't say was that she liked having someone else like her around. Another coyote. Another walker. Another person who could understand what she saw. Who could see the ghosts, too.

Apparently, Gary understood even without her specifications. He nodded with a sad smile, her own feelings reflected in his eyes. "Only for a day, sister. I have to leave tomorrow. The ranch has three more horses on the roster to begin training the day after tomorrow."

A short visit then. Still, that might be for the best, at least for Honey's sake. "So, not much time, hm?"

"I am afraid not," confirmed Gary with a smile. "I'll try to arrange to come for longer, next time."

"Lucky for you, we're used to unannounced guests," remarked Mercy, returning his smile as she stood. "Come on, I'll show you where you can get cleaned up and see about ordering pizza."

Gary followed her lead, a teasing look crossing his face. "Don't care for the smell of horses?"

"Did Charles happen to mention Bran's favorite punishments were chore related? I had to cut grass with a scythe once. A  _ scythe.  _ At least I knew how to use one when I had to kill a vampire."

"You killed a vampire with a medieval farming tool? Why am I only hearing about this now?" demanded Gary with more than a little interest as she led him towards the basement.

Mercy laughed as she started to tell him about her unplanned European trip-turned-vampire hunting expedition.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone convince me that Warren never got involved in the rodeo circuit and that he never crossed paths with Charles. Otherwise I might have to write it and I have too much other stuff to finish.


End file.
